Myths
by Merlin4100
Summary: Bella is hard-pressed to believe in surreal tales, but when she finds a hurt, blood-covered stranger in her apartment at night, she's less scared of him, than of not being able to help him.
1. Chapter 1

I started writing this when I came home to my apartment one night and found it very creepy. So, I put a twilight twist on that fear and got this story. I hope to add more chapters, but I'm not sure what direction to take it in yet. Of course, all characters are owned by Stephanie Meyer.

~*~ Myths ~*~

_Foreword_

We've all heard the saying that there's an element of truth in every myth. The legend of Santa Claus, for example, is based on Saint Nicholas—a 4th century bishop, famous for giving gifts to the poor. It would be nice if all our myths were of pleasant, old men who brought gifts to children; unfortunately, myths have a dark side.

When confronted with the darkness of myths, people always say "It's not real!" or "That's just something people made up to strike fear into misbehaving children." Whether I misbehave or not is up for debate, but I definitely can't get away with buying the kid's pass at the movie theater. In fact, I always thought of myself as a rational person, the first to dismiss any outlandish old wive's tale. No, I never made children cry by telling them there's no Santa Claus—but I would never propagate the myth.

That is why I lie tossing and turning in my bed. I know the walls that surround me can't restrain what I now know is out there, but I don't feel scared—and that scares me the most.


	2. Chapter 2

_Prequel_

I put the key in the lock, but it wouldn't go in all the way. I cursed myself. I always tried the wrong of two identical keys first. You'd think after living in this place for almost two years, I would've figured it out. Nope.

The apartment was pitch black. I could see nothing down the long hallway to my right, but the kitchen was silver and grey from the moonlight that shone through the floor-to-ceiling window in the connected living room. I usually turned on the light, but I didn't feel like it this time.

I had three other roommates, but it was Thanksgiving break and they had all gone home. I told them I was going home too, but that was a lie. I have no family I want to talk to. When my mother re-married after my father's death, I only became a reminder of her most painful memory. She wanted to forget—and she did. I helped her by going away to college on the opposite coast of the country. We didn't say anything to eachother; we both knew that I would never come back.

I kept my promise; I didn't even tell my mom that I graduated college or that I was a first year law student now. She wouldn't want to know, it would mean that she would have to talk to me.

My room was right across from the main door to the apartment. I barely found the doorknob and when I finally entered, I almost tripped over the laundry basket I had left right in front of the door. Luckily, I had left my blinds open earlier in the day, allowing for the moon to illuminate most of my small bedroom.

I threw my coat on the bed and slipped my tennis shoes off simultaneously before dashing to the bathroom down the hall. Instead of turning on the light, my fingers traced along the wall until they stumbled across the bathroom door.

I hated the click of the lock whenever I came out of the bathroom; especially because it echoed in the silence. The rush of the heating system was even worse, like a persistent river of dry air being re-circulated for lip-chapping and choking purposes. The air was drowned out by the rush of water and the warmth felt good on my frozen hands. I splashed some water on my face and reached for the towel on my left. The scent of lavender filled my nose and I was happy that I had finally tried a different scent of dryer sheets.

I opened my eyes. My reflection was glowing orange from the only light in the hallway, coming through the cracked bathroom door. Suddenly, my heart quickened. I felt strange. Why did I think I had seen someone look back at me in that mirror? I looked again, but there was no one there. The goose bumps across my skin started receding and I walked back down the hall to my room.

It was closed. I thought I had left it open. There was a strange sensation again and I finally felt an ice-cold hand cover my mouth.

***

I couldn't scream and I couldn't bite the hand because their grip was so tight. The most awful scenes ran through my head: rape, murder, rape followed by a brutal murder. Tears began streaming down my face and collected at the juncture of his hand and my skin.

I could feel him move closer, his breath hit my ear, "I'm not going to hurt you. Please don't scream. I'll let go if you promise not to scream."

Yeah right, I thought, the minute you let go my voice will shake this building. I nodded.

His hand loosened but clasped my mouth again, "You promised."

How did he know I was going to scream? Whoever it was, must have some kind of psychic abilities.

"Now, let's try this one more time. When I let go, you _don't_ scream." He removed his cold hand and I didn't make a noise. I wasn't dealing with a normal human being. No one who entered people's homes was normal in the first place. I tried to shove those horrendous thoughts about my certain doom to the side.

"I'm sorry I broke in like this." His voice was low and pained.

I flung around and beheld my intruder.

He collapsed in front of me, his body covered in gashes, clothes steeped in blood.

My own hand covered my mouth and it took all my might to keep myself from screaming.

My body reacted before my mind and I drug his heaving frame into my room, but wasn't strong enough to help him onto my bed.

"I'll call 911 immediately."

"No, don't!" He said as if every word he uttered was sucking more life energy from him.

"Why not? You're hurt, and I can't help you." I flipped my phone open.

His movements were so quick my eyes didn't register them until his hand gripped mine so tightly that the phone dropped to the ground. "I—will—be—fine—just—let—me—rest."

Before he fell again, I caught him and guided him to my bed. When I let go, his body plopped down as if it was already dead, the only thing distinguishing him from a corpse were slow, irregular heaves of his chest.

***

Place yourself in my position. It is past midnight, you're all alone in your dark apartment—most likely the only person in the entire apartment building—and there is a strange man covered in blood lying on your bed. He broke in and doesn't want you to call for help—you can't help him, but for some reason you feel you should listen to him.

I'm crazy, right? I should have ran out of the place and screamed for help on the street if he wasn't going to let me call anyone. But I knew that was not an option. Whoever he was, he was very quick; my cell phone still lay on my bedroom floor and I didn't want to try and pick it up again. I resolved to help him in any way I could—if I did, maybe he'd spare my life.

He was still lying face down on my bed. I made sure to make as little noise as possible when I opened the third drawer of my dresser which stood right next to the bed. I pulled several wash cloths out, how could I know where his wounds are if his whole body was covered in blood.

I poured some warm water in a small bucket and soaked a washcloth in it while walking back to the room. He had flipped over and was gasping for air, I ran to his side.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" Even if he could tell me between the gulps for air, I don't think I could've done anything for him.

He didn't reply but collapsed onto the bed and was breathing normally again.

"Do you mind if I clean some of the blood off from your face?" He turned his head toward me, but didn't speak. Was that a "no, I don't mind" or a "no, don't do it". I prefered the former and pressed the warm, wet towel to his bloodied cheek.

The dark-red, crusty residue stained the baby blue cloth and I dipped it in the bucket again. I was actually cleaning blood from this stranger's face—it was like a scene from a horror movie, but I kept at my task like it was nothing.

Each wipe revealed pale, smooth skin so cold to the touch, it penetrated the warmth of the cloth. His complexion was like freshly fallen snow, no blemish nor wound lay beneath the formerly bloodied façade. His eyes had been closed while I had cleaned him, but suddenly opened and he stared directly at me. His irieses were the color of deep, yellow flames and shone with equal intensity.

"Why are you doing this?" His eyes remained fixated on mine.

I didn't have any logical explanation for it, I just felt compelled to help him, to do anything I could, "I don't know, but you looked like you were in pain. I thought I could figure out where your wounds are if I cleaned the blood off—but..."

"They've healed already." He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was normal that he had collapsed bloody, and injured on my bed less than half an hour ago and now was miraculously cured. I stepped back, "were you hurt in the first place?" My old fears of rape and murder resurfaced—what if it wasn't his blood? What if he had killed someone else, smeared their blood on himself, and come to claim his next victim? I took another step back.

He swung his legs off the edge of my bed, but didn't take his eyes off me, "Yes, I was injured, but..." Once again, he moved with frighting speed and I found my face even with his chest, "I can heal very quickly." His index finger lifted up my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes, "Are you afraid of me?"

I gulped, but spoke the truth, "No."

He grinned, revealing bright white teeth that only seemed brighter in contrast to his blood-red lips, "I could hurt you." His voice was barely a whisper.

"You won't, you haven't hurt me thus far, and you won't hurt me now." I was officially going crazy. My argument sounded logical, but my intuition was far beyond logic—I just _knew_ he wouldn't hurt me.

His eyes disconnected from my own as he drew me into an embrace. It was cold, but strangely comforting. My body moved further toward his as he inhaled deeply, "Your scent—it's intoxicating." I was suddenly an arms-length away from him, but he was still gripping my shoulders, "I must leave now."

I came back to my senses, "Like that? You're still covered in blood, what will people think?" Why did I care? What did _I _think? Why wasn't I happy that this potential murderer/rapist was leaving?

"I move too fast for them to notice me." I ran to the door and blocked his exit, arms outstreched on either side of me.

"You're still covered in blood, no matter how quick you are, someone's going to notice." Would this make me an accomplice in the crime if he _had_ murdered someone?

He didn't move, but smiled again, "The only one who could notice is someone else like me, but I already took care of him."

Took care of? _Like _him? Were there other super-fast, deathly pale, blood-covered people in this world? "Wait, just one more second." I scurried past him and opened the chest that lay at the bottom of my bed, taking out a size XL rain jacket that I had gotten for free in a marathon relay I participated in four years ago. Why did I keep it? Just in case there was a great flood—it's the packrat in me.

I shoved the navy, rustly monstrosity in his hands, "That should cover most of it. Keep it."

That cocked grin marked his otherwise perfectly symmetrical features again, "So you don't want to see me again?"

"What?" He was the one who was trying to leave out of nowhere.

"You said I could keep it, if I had to return it..." He took a step toward me, "...we could see eachother again."

Why in the world was my face burning at the prospect of seeing this strange potential murderer again? "You can return it—if you want to."

He took another step toward me and reached out his hand. I took it. I felt like one of those ladies in the disgustingly mushy period dramas on Lifetime as I watched him bow gracefully in front of me before kissing the top of my outstreched hand. In perfectly accented French—this didn't help the Lifetime comparison—he spoke softly, "Au revoir, Bella."

"How do you know my na..." He disappeared, and the only indication that he had left was the sudden slam of my apartment door.

My heart beat faster from excitement and an excrutiating sense of loss. Who was he? _What _was he?

***

I turned over again in my bed and looked out the window which aligned with the side of my bed. The city skyscrape was bathed in the orange hues of the early morning sun. The bloodied sheets lay on my floor.

I had spent the hours after he had left on the internet. Researching is a hobby of mine. His behavior, the way his wounds healed so fast, his speed, cold skin, yellow eyes, it all made sense in a senseless world. Every continent had its own myth with the same connecting characteristics. They just had different names for the same creature. The Vetalas in India, Marigny of ancient Persia, Patasola from Colombia, or Asanbosam in West Africa are all synonyms for the Vampire. I told myself it wasn't real, I wanted to believe it was all an obsurd tall tale, but I had come face-to-face with him. He had been here, on the same bed I wasn't able to fall asleep in.

To me, it doesn't matter what he is.

I closed my eyes, feeling the heavy pressure of exhaustion lull me into sleep. I dreamt of his eyes upon me and felt my heart beat faster.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 1_

"How many poorly-scripted, testosterone-induced action movies can a person watch until their brain turns to mush?" Angela plopped herself down in one of the high-chairs along the kitchen counter.

It was Sunday night after Thanksgiving break and I was desperately trying to catch up on my reading for Contracts, "I don't know, but I can actually _feel _my brain turning to mush as I read this." Not to mention that I had to re-read every page three times because my mind kept wandering to the events of that night. I spent the last few days regretting not asking for his name, right after regretting even thinking about him.

"Bella, is something the matter? You seem kind of out of it." Angela's dark brows furrowed with concern.

For once, I wished the girl wasn't so insightful. Angela had been my roommate since freshman year of college and the first person I befriended in my new home. In Angela's case, five years of friendship meant five years of analyzing all the tiny nuances of my moods. She loved trying to figure people out, but she never pried me for information. Usually, I happily obliged to tell her _everything_; but, this time I couldn't.

"My exams are coming up in a week and I'm freaking out, that's all." It was the truth. I convinced myself that keeping things from her didn't necessarily constitute lying.

She raised her eyebrows; at least they weren't furrowed anymore, "You'll do fine, you always do fine." She smiled, but I could tell she wasn't buying my explanation.

The front door clicked open and a pink suitcase rolled in followed by a petite blonde, "Whoever thinks spending Thanksgiving with family is something to be thankful for, has not met _my_ family!" Jessica let go of both her suitcases and the door slammed closed at the exact time they hit the floor, proving the perfect precursor for the frustrated squeal that followed.

"Feel better?" Angela asked sarcastically.

"No." She pouted, crossed her arms, and stomped over to the kitchen counter, but didn't sit down. I glanced over at Angela and our eyes met before we both turned toward Jessica, giving her our undivided attention. The "pouty stomp" was a signal to stop everything you're doing and listen to an approximate half hour of bitching.

Ten minutes into Jess's tirade about having to watch the dog show with grandma on Thanksgiving Day, Maya walked through the door.

"Helooooo, you guys!" She exclaimed in her sweet, whimsical voice.

"Hey, how was your Thanksgiving?" I was looking for any excuse to stop Jess from talking again.

"It was goooood, but my family doesn't really celebrate it. We just had normal food." Maya's family moved to the United States from India ten years ago and she made sure everyone knew that she was "ethnic". "Oh, I forgot. I picked up a bunch of mail from the box." She dug into her purse and dropped a large stack of envelopes on the counter.

Jess's eyes lit up, "Oooooo, did I get my credit card rewards certificate?" She picked the whole stack up before any of us could look at it and began tossing the ones that were not hers back on the counter.

I watched Jess's rejected envelopes land in front of me, making sure they were not something important; most of them were credit card offers. "What's this?" She held a small, white envelope right in front of my face. It had no stamp or address on it, making the lone black script "Bella" stand out. I immediately grabbed it out of her hand and prayed my hunch about the aged writing style was correct.

"A classmate said he'd drop by an invitation to this art exhibit today, this must be it." _Art exhibit? _Good one, Bella.

A sly smile spread across Jess's face, "So, it's a _he_..."

I rolled my eyes, how did I not foresee this happening? "A bunch of us are going."

Maya had to chime in, "Perhaps _you_ and a _bunch _of boys?" She giggled at what she thought was clever word-play. I flashed her my best look of death, but she kept giggling.

"What's his name?" Jess was now hovering right behind me.

"I said he's just a classmate." I got up abruptly and tried to put on my best angry face. They suddenly backed off, giving me the opportunity to stomp off to my room and slam the door. I smiled, satisfied with my performance as I ripped the white envelope open.

My heart beat faster as I unfolded the small piece of notebook paper. The beautiful calligraphy from a bygone era looked out of place against its college ruled backdrop.

_Dearest Bella,_

_Meet me at the Waterfront Fountain tomorrow morning at ten. If you do not come, you will never get your jacket back._

_Love,_

_Edward_

I slowly folded the piece of paper back up and stuffed it in the small envelope. I looked at the strange script again, feeling like I was holding an ancient artifact. His name, Edward, was also reminiscent of another time—when no one dared to butcher a man's name down to one syllable—I cringed at the thought of calling that beautiful creature _Ed_.

My dreamy thoughts were interrupted by a knock at my door, "Bella, we're sorry that we made you upset." Angela was talking, but I knew the other two were huddled around right behind her.

I opened the door and the three of them took a step back, but I had a feeling they were listening for any sobbing or whimpering, "No, I was the one that overreacted. Don't worry about it."

"So..." Jess scooted past Maya and Angela until we were face to face, "you're going?"

"Where?" I was slightly confused.

"On a date with that guy!" She beamed her brightest smile.

"Jessica!" Angela and Maya screamed in unison and dragged her back by the shoulders.

I smiled to indicate that I wasn't mad, "There's _no_ guy, and _no_, I am not going to the _art exhibit_!"

Angela clasped her hand over Jess's mouth before the chatterbox could say any more, "We're glad everything's cool. You can study now," she looked down at Jess, "_we_ won't be bothering you."

"Thanks—I better get back to those contracts! Fun, fun, fun!" I was talking contracts, but the only thing on my mind was Edward and the potentially awkward jacket exchange tomorrow morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**I apologize for this EXTREMELY late posting, but these last few weeks of school kept me pretty busy. Unlike Bella, I didn't have a handsome, mysterious vampire to distract me from my studies. Wouldn't that be nice? Well, here's the next installment. You'll recognize a somewhat altered scene from the movie. I **_**had**_** to. **

***

I was late.

Not that I want to blame the elements for my lateness, but it had rained earlier. The slick pavement would not allow me to walk fast enough in order to catch the bus. I also _had to _get a massive cup of black coffee (no sugar or cream—that's for the weak); needless to say, the rest of the world had to get their coffee at the same time.

When I finally got on the bus, I rummaged through my purse until I found the lip gloss I never wore. It was part of a cosmetic set Jessica had given me for my birthday. I still remember what she said when I had opened it, "You should wear make-up more often; you'd be really pretty then!" I didn't say anything back; I'm sure she didn't even get her own implication. I caked the gooey, shiny stuff on my lips and hoped what Jess had said was the honest truth.

It was a quarter past ten when the bus came to a screeching halt at my stop. I hopped off and walked toward Waterfront Park, knowing only a few feet separated me from seeing him again. My mind raced through a million greetings, smiles, and friendly expressions but nothing seemed right. I had no clue how to handle myself.

A cold breeze blew from the sea and tousled my hair around my face. I kept walking while attempting to put my hair back into place—I should've known better. It stuck to my lip gloss, making it more difficult to re-adjust. I lost my balance and began to fall face-forward toward the pavement.

There was no pain.

"Bella, are you alright?" I opened my eyes to see Edward's concerned expression looking down on me.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I watched the lines on his forehead relax as he helped me stand up.

"You should be more careful." He immediately let go of me when he saw I was fine.

"You tell that to the wind and lip gloss; I'm blameless."

"I see," he smiled and stepped in my direction.

His smile was beautiful, brilliant white. I gulped as his hand approached my face, but stopped short of touching me.

"There are still a few strands sticking to your lips," he pointed at the lower right corner of my mouth, making sure not to touch me.

I clumsily brushed the whole side of my face, feeling the sticky strands smear across my cheek, "Is it gone now?"

I could tell he wanted to laugh at my _graceful_ movements, but he didn't—out of pity probably. He nodded instead.

He was very tense today. Every gesture of his was unsure, restrained, but quick and resolute once it was begun. His behavior now was nothing like the smoothness of his script or the confidence with which he had insisted to meet again, "Do you have my jacket?" I would make it easier on him.

His smile surprised me, "No."

I was relieved, "Why am I here, then?"

He began walking toward the waterfront and I followed him like a puppy.

"Can you read minds?" I remembered all the questions I had prepared on the bus.

"Why would I read minds?" His voice sounded amused, but I knew his reply was cautious—almost rehearsed.

"I know what you are." I wanted to sound strong, but my voice was shaking. Would he take the bait?

He stopped, "If you know what I am—you shouldn't be here." He didn't turn to face me.

"I said it before, I'm not afraid of you." He turned and our eyes met.

"Say it." Edward's topaz eyes narrowed.

"What?"

"What I am. I want you to acknowledge what you are dealing with."

My throat was suddenly dry. I didn't know if it was his unwavering gaze upon me or the fact that I was forced to recognize the truth to the outside world. Everything had seemed logical as long as it had been trapped in the confines of my mind, but once uttered out loud, "You're a vampire," it was irreversible.

"Do you know what that means, Bella?" He came closer, until his whole frame hovered above mine.

"It means you're not like other humans."

His eyes narrowed, "_That's _the problem! I'm _not _human, I'm a _monster_." There was a bitter growl, a guttural sound when he said _monster_. He was angry—at himself.

"You're not a monster, Edward!" I barely knew him, but I _knew_ this.

His expression looked pained, confused, and relieved at the same time. I moved in to pat him on the shoulder, figuring it was an appropriate gesture—I didn't know if vampires liked hugs.

His body tensed up at first but relaxed again, "Please don't surprise me like that again."

"Like what?" I let go of him and his shoulders visibly relaxed. "I promise I'll ask to touch you next time." I smiled slyly and changed the topic before he could dwell on it, "My class starts at noon and I demand some form of compensation from you."

"Compensation?"

"Like an explanation..." I waved an index finger in front of him, "...and, you are not allowed to refuse."

I turned and ran toward the curved, metal railing that separated me and the frigid waters of the Pacific. I heard Edward's footsteps follow me from behind. I smiled to myself because he chose not to leave.

The fresh, cold wind blew the hair away from my face this time. I took a deep breath in and exhaled dramatically. Edward was standing right beside me now. I watched the corners of his mouth turn down slightly.

"What's wrong?" I was starting to feel that having to stay with me was unpleasant for him.

"Bella, do you know what it feels like to breathe out of habit?" He pushed himself away from the railing.

"I'm sorry." I told myself to be more sensitive.

"What are you sorry about? You did not make me this way." I think saying things mysteriously was how he usually talked.

"How did you become a vampire?" I realized I knew very little about him.

"I was very sick and someone took pity on me." He said nothing else, as if his cryptic one-sentence reply should make complete sense to me.

"Pity? Is that 'someone else' a vampire too? Did they bite you like in the movies?" He flashed me an annoyed look.

"Please do not mention movies—it's all a bunch of myths."

"Myths? Then, what's the truth?" I had also believed vampires were a myth, but here _he_ was talking to me about how myths didn't exist.

"I _was_ bitten, but there are no fangs, no aversion to garlic, we don't sleep in coffins—in fact, we don't sleep at all, and we can come out in daylight, but you should know that already." At the end of his spiel, Edward appeared to be making an effort not to look irritated.

Suddenly, a question popped into my mind, "When did you turn into a vampire?"

He looked me in the eyes, his lips parted, but closed again.

I rephrased my question, "How old are you?"

"Seventeen." He moved a little closer to me.

I was shocked to hear how young he was, but stopped myself, "How long have you been seventeen?"

He was close enough to where he could whisper his reply, "A while."

My mind started doing what it hated to do. It attempted to crunch numbers it did not know. I subtracted decades from today, multiplied the results by a hundred, added random variables until it all collapsed and I began to focus on what was in front of me.

Now that I had a good excuse to examine his face, he actually looked very young. Edward's skin was even and pale—I had noticed that before, but now there were other intricacies I could pay attention to. The corners of his eyes were completely smooth; not a single crow had dared to tread on them. Although his face creased perfectly when he smiled, there was no remnant of laugh lines as he reverted to a trademark pout.

Another thing my mind liked to do was overreact. I took my eyes off him and looked around. There was no one else in sight; it did rain today. People didn't enjoy looking at vast expanses of water when it was hitting their face from above. I looked back at him; he seemed puzzled by my prolonged silence. I'm sure my ogling at his face hadn't helped ease the tension either, "If anyone asks, you're my younger cousin."

First, his face twisted in confusion, then one eyebrow rose above the other, "Why?"

"Well, you don't look like me, so a cousin seems more believable—doesn't it?" He was pretty dense for someone that could read minds.

"I apologize for my confusion, but what exactly are you talking about?" There was a hint of frustration in his low, smooth voice.

"_You_," I jabbed my index finger in his direction and turned it back on myself, "and _me_!" I used suggestive voice inflection, but he seemed more confused. I sighed. "What if people think we're a couple? I'll look like Mrs. Robinson or something. I'm like this old hag with this younger man—on the waterfront, I'll just die right now of embarrassment. Do your papers say you're seventeen?"

It was the first time I had heard him laugh. The tension in his voice was replaced by a musical sound. My heart jumped. His laugh lines ebbed away to nothingness, "Of all the things to worry about—you are concerned that I may look younger than you?" He smiled again.

I felt my cheeks pulse with heat, "It's a perfectly legitimate concern."

"Before I told you my age—and I use the term loosely, did you think I was seventeen?" His tone was more serious.

I thought hard and gave him my honest reply, "No...bu..."

Edward pressed his white index finger against his crimson lips, "That is because humans judge age by looks and _behavior_; right now, _you_ are acting your age."

An image of my waning pride being stabbed repeatedly flashed through my mind, "Well, then, I will take my young self out of this conversation. I'm sure someone of your mental caliber doesn't need _young_, human _me_ to keep you company." I turned on my heel and began to walk away; that tone of his was _so_ condescending. I could barely control my emotions. I felt like I was going to cry. I hated that. My tear ducts never complied with what I wanted. The frustration was choking me now.

"Please, stay." He was suddenly in front of me, head bowed.

I needed a reason, "Why me? How did you know my name that night?"

He lifted his head, his ochre eyes set on mine, "Bella, I just revealed myself to you because I had no other choice; nowhere else to go." He bit his lower lip, perhaps to keep himself from saying any more.

"_Revealed_? How long did it take you to _reveal_ yourself?" My voice was trembling, but not from fear—I was angry, I was _really_ angry. Why did he speak in puzzles? How long would he have waited to tell me that he was a vampire before I figured it out?

"You're pressing me for answers I cannot give." His face was twisted in pain, as if he was standing on a bed of nails—any wrong response and I would leave his sight. Would that tear him to pieces?

"Then, can you tell me _why_ you had to reveal yourself—_why _you had no other choice?" I braced myself for another vague response.

"I needed time to recover. I was injured pretty badly that night." His eyes searched mine for an inkling of satisfaction.

"I know you were, but _why_?" Who could have hurt him like that? He was faster, stronger, and smarter than any human.

"I said it that night, didn't I? I had taken care of another vampire—I stopped him from killing a human. I didn't expect him to attack me—I had to kill him." His voice was barely a whisper.

"You saved someone's life, Edward." I could tell he wasn't proud of it.

"Vampires who are honest to their nature feed on human blood. Those of us who choose to be vegetarians do so against our natural instincts. I had no right to stop him from doing what was innate. Even worse, I used my mistake as an excuse to finally face you."

I reached out to grab his hand but he moved out of the way, "I shouldn't have touched you that night; I was not in the right state of mind."

"Did you read _my_ mind just now?" I felt the tear roll down my cheek.

"No." He was telling the truth.

I wiped my eyes before any other tears escaped, but it was of no use, "I was trying to leave with some dignity, but it doesn't befit my age, so _fuck you_!" I turned again and walked back up the hill. The blistering, cold wind stabbed the remaining streams of saline on my cheeks.

I was nothing more than a mistake to him. If it had been _me_ that was being attacked by that other vampire, would he have second-guessed saving me? I knew he wasn't following me. He could've easily caught up by now; fresh tears flowed down my face.


	5. Chapter 5

Class that day was unbearable. The professor called on me repeatedly, recognizing that I hadn't read the material. I _was_ the lesson—read, or suffer crippling, public humiliation.

But I was used to humiliation. What I wasn't used to was this horrendous distraction. _All_ I could think about was what happened that morning. I reworked it all in my mind. The ending remained the same—me walking away, crying. What had he said that bothered me so much? Was it my reaction that left him standing frozen in place, unwilling to follow me?

Edward had seemed irritated the whole time he was with me. He was distant and cold. He _wanted_ to get rid of me. I even imagined myself in place of that human he had saved—I imagined him walking away as _I_ faced certain death. I snapped out of my daze when everyone around me started to get out of their seats—class was _finally _over.

I too began shoving the books I hadn't used at all into my bag. The monotonous task brought some relief to my frenzied mind.

"Hey Bella," I dreaded the sound of that friendly, cheery voice as I turned to face him.

"Yeah, Mike, what's up?" I needed to remain calm. On a usual day, I effortlessly smiled away his obvious passes at me. Today, it was going to be tough. He was very close to becoming a scapegoat for all my frustrations.

"You had it rough today, huh? Williams was out to _get _you!" He must've seen the anger mount in my eyes, "...but, uh, I just thought to ask if you wanted to study for exams sometime next week?" He had said it all in one breath.

I was kind of pissed that I had to be gentle with him when I was feeling so down, "Mike, you said it yourself, I had it _rough_. I don't think I'd be much help." I gasped loudly before he could adjust his approach, "Oh, gosh! I'll be late for my bus. Sorry Mike, I got to dash." I ran as if in a hurry, knowing my bus wasn't going to be there for another twenty minutes.

The sky looked murkier now; I wondered if the weather was somehow in tune with how I felt. Either way, I was finally appreciative of Seattle's rainy climate.

The voices in my head were ready for another assault. I _was_ crazy.

Bella, why do you care so much? You barely know him! You're older and wiser than the way you've been acting. You're not some heroine in a novel that swoons over some handsome, dashing stranger in mere seconds. This is real life and you need to stop pretending that what you're dreaming is possible.

I detested that voice within me. It's the voice that makes total sense and yet I only listen to it half the time.

If that voice was right, Edward would not exist.

I stopped in my tracks. What if Edward didn't exist? Less than a week ago, he didn't. I was happy then. I was oblivious. Vampires only existed in "myths".

I suddenly had this feeling of déjà vu. If I took another step, I don't think my legs would've supported me. I had experienced it many times before—the feeling of being watched. It wasn't like being watched by a creepy stalker; I felt at ease and safe—like I had a guardian angel whose presence I could sense.

In the midst of the flashback, I yearned to see him. I could not explain it, nor did I want to. It was quick—instantaneous even, when I had fallen for him. He had been so helpless that night. He had trusted me with his existence. I could've betrayed him; called the ambulance or police. He was immobilized for that half hour. I now knew that he couldn't have escaped. Where did such trust come from?

The warm, secure sensation abruptly blew away with the cold wind.

I had allowed my pride to chase Edward away. He was right; I had acted my age—twenty-one years of stupidity and stubbornness all rolled into one clumsy package. This level of self-loathing had not occurred to me since my father's death and it overwhelmed me. My traitor tears wanted to reveal me again and I started to run to the next bus stop down the road.

My lungs burned, chest heaved, and a single drop of sweat trickled down my temple. I slowed my pace as the next station came into view. I felt dizzy. A familiar voice called from behind me.

"Bella, why are you running in heels?" Jessica rushed over, stopping in front of me.

"I was getting some exercise." This would have been so much more believable if I had exercised even _once_ since we've been friends.

She pulled me up from my slumped position, "I'm the last person to talk, but you've been acting really weird lately. First off, you know you don't exercise. Second, you've been absentminded and when you're brought back to reality, you're irritated. That's not like you at all."

Even Jessica, who usually only cares about her own feelings, had noticed there was something wrong. I was in trouble.

"Bella!" I was _surely_ imagining things.

I could see Jessica's expression change from rare concern to utter disbelief. She let go of my arm and I almost fell—my feet were killing me. I suffered through the pain long enough to turn and face a smiling Edward.

He held a thick, black book in his hands which he stretched toward me, "You left this in the classroom. I must say, it was a challenge keeping up with you." He feigned exhaustion, lifting his navy blue sweater away from his chest. Edward's hair was slightly tousled, but his complexion remained ghost white.

Jess grabbed the book before I could, "Thank you. I'm sure Bella appreciates it very much! Oh, I wish my classmates were so nice." She smiled her 'alluring' smile.

Edward's expression didn't change, he looked past her—at me, "Actually, I have an ulterior motive." He smiled crookedly, "I was wondering if you could help me understand this concept from class..."

Jessica practically shoved me into Edward, "Yeah, she can. She has _nothing_ planned for today—or night!" She winked at me suggestively and I was sure he saw it. I imagined how easy it would be to sneak into her room and suffocate her when I came back home—_on time_ tonight.

I smiled up at him, trying to seem as normal as I could in front of Jessica, "Yeah, sure." I turned back to Jess, "I'll be home just a _little_ later tonight."

Jessica grinned at Edward, "Borrow her for as long as you want." Before I could protest she looked at her watch, "My, how times flies. I have to go to my evening class, nice to meet you..."

"Edward." He said without hesitation, exposing his pearly white teeth with a broad grin.

He played his part well. Jess was practically drooling over herself. I jerked my head in the direction of campus, hoping she would get the hint and leave. She smiled one last time and waved goodbye. As she was walking away, she turned frequently, mouthing "Oh my God!"

I looked up at Edward's smiling face and still couldn't believe he was standing beside me. Could I pretend we were on good terms again? I cleared my throat, "Since you read minds—Jessica's going to tell everyone about this, isn't she?"

"She is trying to decide who to call first as we speak." He was looking off toward Jessica's path, concentrating.

"Who's lucky number one?" I made no effort to conceal the dread in my voice.

"Angela's apparently not dramatic enough—definitely Maya." He looked at me, his smile waning, "Will you join me for some coffee?"

I would join him on the North Pole, "Yes."

His eyes flickered with concern for a brief second, "Can you walk?"

"Yes, no problem. I run in heels all the time." I took a step forward and a sharp pain surged through my ankle. I would have crumpled to the ground had Edward not caught my waist.

His body tensed up and he gritted his teeth as he spoke, "Just stay still. I will carry you."

Naturally, I tried to wriggle away from him, "No! I'm fine, I'll walk. It's probably just a blister."

Disregarding my protests and the stares from pedestrians, Edward placed his other hand under my knees and lifted me up. He slung my bag around his shoulder. I noticed that he only used his arms to carry me, keeping my body as far away from his torso as possible.

I closed my eyes. If I didn't die from embarrassment, I would die from my heart exploding.

"Allegro, right?" His voice was strained as he carried me.

"How do you know my favorite coffee shop?" I looked up at him, watching the skin around his perfect jawline tighten into a smile.

"I know a lot about you, Bella." He said nothing else.

"I thought you were angry at me this morning. I was afraid I would never see you again." I tried my hardest not to sound desperate. After all, I still hadn't apologized.

"That is what should have happened, but..." He stopped himself.

"But what?" I discovered another thing about him: he didn't like to finish his sentences.

"I decided that I am already going to hell—and I want to see exactly how deep I can go."

"I have no clue what you're saying." It was frustrating.

"I am working on that."

"What?" I would have given anything for an incomplete sentence right now; he must have been practicing his mysterious quotes since we last saw each-other.

"We have arrived." He gently placed me on the ground, but kept a hand on my elbow for support.

"That was fast!" It couldn't have taken more than a few minutes even though the café was across campus.

He smiled and opened the door.

I hobbled in, determined not to walk away crying this time. Edward was more important than my ego and I had to find out why.


	6. Chapter 6

We sat down at a small table for two in the farthest corner of the café. The place was almost empty since it was evening time. Yet, the small number of patrons that were chatting with friends, fixated on laptop screens, or studying, stopped doing so the minute Edward walked in behind me.

The female customers' jaws dropped. Immediately after they undressed him with their eyes, their vulgar orbs glanced over at me. I have never believed the saying that looks could kill, but their eyes were shooting daggers at me—and it hurt. I looked down at the floor, following Edward's feet to the table.

I sat down facing the wall, back turned to the onlookers. Edward didn't sit down; he stood next to me, fists clenched.

"What's wrong?" I looked up at him, noticing his eyes were closed, his brows meeting in anger.

Edward's voice shook, "These people...their thoughts against you are..."

"...stupid and don't matter." I attempted to use my calmest, most reassuring voice. "Don't listen to them, Edward. Open your eyes and look at me."

The fiery gleam of his gaze was both frightening and beautiful, I bit my lip before I squealed like a schoolgirl, "I don't care what they think and neither should you. Focus on me, on my thoughts, okay?"

He lowered his chin, nodding slightly, but kept his eyes locked on mine, "What would you like to drink?"

"A medium hazelnut latte, unsweetened." Sugar ruined coffee.

"I'll be back." He strode to the counter where the teenage cashier girl turned beet red and averted her eyes from his before he even said a word to her. I tried to listen to their conversation, but it was on the opposite end of the café. Instead, I watched the girl fumble her way through making my latte. Every other second, she stole a glance at Edward. I could only imagine how her infatuation with him would affect the taste of my coffee. Finally, she placed the cup in front of him; he plopped a bill down and turned on his heel, eager to escape the gushing girl.

He put the latte down in front of me and sat down on the other side of the table. I picked the paper cup up and took the lid off, bringing it up to my nose—I inhaled the aroma. It smelled fine. I looked at the frothy layer of milk on top—that also looked fine. Finally, I took a slow, cautious sip—she had put sugar in it. I looked up to see Edward covering his mouth, but I knew he was smiling because laugh lines had materialized around his eyes.

"Did you tell her not to put sugar in it?" I tried not to sound bitchy.

"Yes. Did she mess it up? I could get you another one." He began to rise from his chair, but I held my hand up to stop him.

"It's alright, I don't want to put you through that again—wouldn't want the poor girl to faint."

He looked puzzled, "Why would she faint?"

I studied his expression, was he really that dense? "Do you realize what effect you have on people—women, especially?"

He shrugged, "I only read their thoughts when I try to get something, but I did nothing to _that_ girl."

"I'm not talking about reading her mind—I'm talking about how you use your looks. When you smile, wink, lower your voice—you _dazzle_ people." I took a sip of my coffee so I didn't have to look at him; why did I say those embarrassing things around him?

I only heard his voice—it was deeper, huskier, "Do I dazzle _you_?"

I pressed the coffee more tightly against my lips, took a large swig and replaced it on the table without letting go of the cup, "frequently."

The self-satisfied smile that stretched across his face made me want to sink into a big, black hole. I placed both hands on my cheeks, hiding the unavoidable redness.

"Bella, it would be better if I did not—dazzle—you." His smile was gone.

I let go of my face, "I can't help how I feel—it doesn't make sense to me, either." I looked up at him, wondering if I should say any more, but I had chosen to leave my pride outside the café door, "I think I like you more than I should—more than you would want me to."

He blinked a few times as if he was surprised; did I say something he didn't want to hear? "You did not let me finish, Bella." Our eyes were locked together, the tension unbearable, "It _would_ be better if you stayed away from me, but even if you did—I do not think I could stay away from _you_."

If I had covered my cheeks it would not have mattered because my hands were scorching too. I slid my burning hand across the table and grazed his cold fingertips, "So don't."

His first instinct was to withdraw from me; but, he stopped his hand in mid-air, "Last time you said you would ask..."

I was amazed at how good his memory was; I wondered if that was another special vampire quality Edward possessed, "You got me. _Next _time, I promise."

"Shake on it?" His topaz eyes gleamed beneath dark lashes.

My trembling hand inched toward his, "May I?" I didn't forget to ask.

I took Edward's crooked smile as a yes. His cold fingers enclosed my whole hand like a smooth, marble blanket. We never shook hands; we just held them together until I felt myself leaning in towards him.

"Bella, I am not being fair to you." His voice was solemn again and brought me out of my trance.

He freed my hand, leaving me confused, "Why?"

"There are so many things you do not know about me." He leaned back in his chair, examining my expression.

"If I ask, will you give me answers?" I _wanted_ to know him better, but it was _he _who constantly spoke in puzzles.

Edward leaned forward again, folding one hand over the other in front of him, "Do you remember the ice storm?"

How did _he_ know about that? Was he reading my mind again? Didn't I have to think about it first before he could use his power to find out? "The ice storm happened my freshman year."

"Think about the events of that day." He was being mysterious again.

"I remember waking up and looking out the window—everything outside was covered in a sheet of ice. Classes were still not cancelled, though. So, I went." I frowned; there was something I had blocked from my mind. I looked him in the eyes but he just nodded, pressing me to continue.

"There was a parking lot I always walked through between two of my classes and it was slick with ice that day." I looked at him again, my eyes widening, "...then, there was a van. It turned a little too fast into the lot and began to skid on the ice, it was coming right for me. But..." My voice was now shaking.

"It never hit you." He finally spoke.

"No, I had closed my eyes and heard a loud crash. When I opened them again, the van had completely changed direction and smashed into some parked cars." I remembered that moment, I was sure I was going to die. The van was coming straight for me. The authorities said I was _very_ lucky. The driver of the van didn't remember anything after he crashed. He said everything had happened so quickly. Other than the complete change in the van's trajectory, the cops couldn't explain another thing—there was a large dent in the side of the van that hadn't hit anything.

Edward's face was still, but his eyes were pressing me to continue.

"Edward, there was no way that van wouldn't have hit me—unless, something stopped it." I looked at him as a wave of realization crashed over me.

"That was the first time I _interfered_." He closed his eyes as if he was grappling with something within himself.

"_You_, it was _you_ who pushed it out of the way. Even then—all the way back then, _you _were _there_." My hand flew to my mouth; what did this imply for us? If he had been around for so long—_why_ hadn't he showed himself earlier? _Why _did he save me? _Why _was he there in the first place? Was I just another human he happened to save—just another lucky bystander to receive his charity?

"Even then, Bella, I had been watching you." His eyes were still closed.

"Why?" My voice had cracked.

He opened his eyes, but looked beyond me, "That's something I can't tell you."

"It's that easy? You can't tell me why you've been watching me for what? Four—_five _years and just now decided to show yourself! You saved my _life_ and didn't think I should _know_?" I gulped for air—I felt like I was going to suffer a panic attack.

"Bella, these people are starting to wonder what is going on. It is not wise to draw attention to us." He was looking at me while speaking in a low voice, making sure those onlookers didn't hear.

I continued my breathing exercises.

"What did you expect me to do, Bella? Come up to you after the accident? Knock on your door, introduce myself? 'Hi, my name is Edward. I am a vampire with superhuman strength and I pushed a van out of the way with my bare hands, saving you from certain death. Oh, and the only reason I could save you was because I was watching you. In fact, I have been watching you for quite some time—please do not freak out.'" He was patronizing me.

My eyes were moist, overflowing—I watched the tears plop down on the table's surface, "I had promised myself that I wouldn't cry this time. I had said I would set my ego aside—for you, Edward. I have been completely honest—you can read my mind, you can see my deepest thoughts—but _you_ won't tell _me_ anything." My hands were balled up in tight fists, forcing my fingernails into my palms.

"I have never been able to read _you_, Bella. Not once. When I am near you—your mind is a blank. It is _so_ frustrating—_unbearably_ frustrating. It makes protecting you much harder. I have to stay close to you at all times."

He paused and frowned, "My desire to know what you are thinking finally won—when my common sense and body were weakened I came to you. That day I was attacked, I convinced myself that you were the only place I could go. I broke into your apartment, bloody, and mad enough to put my hands on you." The last word was barely a whisper. "But, _you_ saved _me_." He reached across the table and, with the back of his hand, wiped my tears away.

I sniffled, "You can't see anything in my head?"

He smiled, "Nothing."

I still did not understand why he had felt a need to protect me or why he waited so long to show himself, but I was happy that he was here now, "It's not very exciting in here." I knocked on my forehead; it sounded more hollow than usual.

"Humble as always." The now familiar, crooked smirk was comforting.

"If I have to leave now, will you be around tomorrow?" I was scared of another disappearing act.

"Just say when." He winked and got up from his chair. The café had emptied out—it was almost closing time.

"When." I smiled playfully.

"We have to part first." He bowed slightly in the direction of the door, "Ladies first."

"Fine, will you walk me home?" I was trying to squeeze out every ounce of time I had with him.

"I have a better idea." Before I could react he had grabbed me by my upper arm and swung me onto his back. I closed my eyes as he picked up speed, running through city allies that became nothing more than a blur to my human eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

My cell phone alarm rang at 8 a.m.—an ungodly hour. I thought it was an ironic transition—nothing like a polyphonic version of Debussy's Claire de Lune to destroy any nightmares about chasing after Edward through green, murky forests. I pushed the silence button and hopped out of bed. I felt unusually giddy today—Edward had promised to meet me before my ten o'clock class. He was picking me up at eight thirty.

Upon gazing at my reflection in the hallway mirror, I decided it was a really good thing Edward wasn't superficial. Sure, _he_ was stunningly beautiful, but that was an effortless part of his vampire nature. My catastrophic hair and deathly complexion indicated I cared more about sleep than waking up early to make myself look _somewhat_ attractive. I splashed water on my face, brushed my teeth, and tied my unkempt tresses into a bun at the base of my neck.

I threw on my favorite pair of dark jeans and a grey, fitted sweater, completing the outfit with a purple patterned shawl Maya had brought me from her trip to India—it actually served more of a practical purpose, my neck got cold frequently. I almost forgot my toasted bagel, but managed to shove it in my mouth before dashing through the door—I had heard Jessica's alarm ring.

Last night Edward and I had lingered outside my apartment building, arranging today's meeting time. Apparently, all three of my roommates had huddled around the living room window, watching us. When I walked through the apartment door, I was bombarded by a million questions. "Who is he?" "Is it the art gallery guy?" "When did you meet him?" "Are you dating?" "Why didn't you tell us?" "Does he have a brother?" Jess was the worst. She wouldn't let me sleep until I filled her in on "_every_"detail—thankfully, I stopped short of telling her Edward was a vampire. She even knew the café girl had failed to put sugar in my coffee.

I flew out of my building's revolving door, attempting to put my coat on at the same time. Edward was leaning against a silver Volvo a little way down the street. I rushed toward him, unable to stop myself from grinning like a fool. "Good morning," I said cheerfully.

"Morning." Edward's eyes examined me from head to foot and I immediately cursed my love of sleep—I would set my alarm for seven tomorrow. His gaze met my own again, "You look beautiful."

"I thought vampires had good eyesight." Maybe he didn't get out much or read magazines.

"We do, why?" He didn't get my implication.

"Nevermind," I smiled to put him at ease and placed a hand on the Volvo, "is this your car?"

"Yes, do you like it?" He sounded like an unsure, little boy. I found it unbearably cute.

"Actually, Volvos are up on my list of favorite cars, right next to Buicks—very safe." I usually never told anyone under the age of fifty that.

"I am not surprised," he took his keys out and pushed the unlock button, "today, I will take you to one of my favorite places."

"Really? Where?" He opened the passenger side door and I eagerly hopped in.

Edward swung around to the other side of the car and slid into his seat, "It's a secret—until we get there."

I crossed my arms in front of me, pouting, "Not fair."

"Buckle up." He didn't buckle _his_ seatbelt—immortality was still better than any safety device Volvo could produce.

"Is it far? I still have to get to class by ten." Maybe I could guess the location based on distance.

"The way _I _drive—nothing is too far." His hands gripped the steering wheel, "Don't worry, we will be back on time."

I was about to protest when Edward jerked the car out of the parallel parking spot in one move and sped down the road like a madman. I gripped the door handle and armrest, hoping my fingernails wouldn't tear through the leather, "It's fine if I'm late—just slow down a little bit."

He turned to face me, completely averting his eyes from the road, "Don't worry, I have yet to be in an accident," he tapped the side of his head with his index finger, "radar."

I tried to relax, but the dizzying speed at which he maneuvered through traffic still had me gripping the leather, "If I rip this car up—I'll have to pay for the damage in installments—law school's expensive."

He chuckled, "How about I play some relaxing music." Edward pushed a series of buttons on the dashboard and the car's speakers came to life.

I immediately felt a little better, "Claire de Lune—very nice."

"You like Debussy?" He sounded relieved and surprised.

I flipped my phone open and started playing the cell phone version, "It's my alarm. I thought waking up would be easier if it happened to a soothing tune."

"Does it work?" He was genuinely interested in my crazy theories.

"No—this version isn't _quite_ as soothing as the original." I turned it off again—savoring the peaceful sound of the real thing.

"What other music do you listen to?" Edward was looking at me again, one hand on the wheel.

I strained to categorize my musical tastes but failed miserably, "I listen to _everything_—even country _and_ rap."

"Hmmm, country _maybe_, but I would not have guessed you like rap."

"Rap artists are some of the most poignant social critics of our time. I mean, you have your brainless purely for entertainment stuff—every genre does, but there's material out there that's truly insightful and poetic." I sounded like one of those commentators on PBS.

"Perhaps, I will look into that." He seemed to contemplate the matter seriously.

I smiled, "What about you? Who is your favorite musician?"

"Well, it is impossible to pick just one. When you have lived as long as I, you have to occupy your time with _something_. Listening to music is one of my favorite past times and there is so much out there, so many genres, in many different languages—I listen to it all."

"You can speak different languages? I kind of figured you spoke French from the first day we met, but there's more?" I took French in high school for four years, but remembered nothing other than how to order a steak and fries.

"Studying languages is another one of my hobbies. It also helps me read minds more easily; not everyone thinks in English, you know." He spoke casually, like it was a typical hobby to have.

"Which languages do you speak?" I sounded like a fascinated child.

"Other than English and French, I am fluent in Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, German, Russian, Arabic, Hebrew, Latin, Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Bengali and Hindi."

My head swam, "_Fifteen_—you're fluent in _fifteen_ languages?" I felt ashamed of my pathetic attempts at learning French.

"It's not too hard when you have an eternity to learn, Bella." He must have sensed my self-deprecating aura.

"How do you pick which languages to study?" I didn't want to ask him to 'say something'—Maya always complained about people who did that.

"Popularity, I guess. When I notice a lot of minds thinking in a certain language, I get curious—so I learn it." Once again, he was so nonchalant about it.

"What do you do? _How_ do you study it?" It took me three years to figure out how to say 'bonjour' properly.

"Like everyone else—I read textbooks, listen to taped conversations, watch a lot of programming from that country, and listen to music. Sometimes, when I am confident enough, I will go out and speak with people—but that draws a lot of attention to me, so I don't do it too often."

My face dropped, "Oh, I see there's no magic formula."

He looked over at me, excited, "I'll teach you if you want."

I panicked, "Uh, that wouldn't be such a great idea—I don't think we'd be friends after that."

"What? That is ridicul..."

I put my hand up to stop him, "_Trust_ me, you do _not_ want to see me trying to pronounce or write things in any other language. My French teacher in high school had a heart attack during my sophomore year; I'm pretty sure it happened while she was grading one of my essays." Poor Mrs. Becker, I thought, "Don't worry, she lived—became a health freak, actually."

Edward laughed out loud, "I think you give yourself far too much credit."

"I don't know how it would be possible, but I think I'd give you a heart attack too." I smiled, but wasn't too convinced that it was entirely improbable.

His face was serious again, "You already have—of a different sort."

He glanced over at me from underneath his lashes. It was the smoldering look he used whenever he wanted to make me squirm. Before I lost all my senses, I felt the car slow down and embark on uneven terrain. I looked up and noticed we were going into a forest, "Where are we?"

"A little ways outside of town; we will leave the car here." He braked abruptly and put the car into park.

"Is this your favorite place?" I looked around as I stepped out of the car. Although it was the middle of winter, tall evergreens filtered misty, green light to the forest floor. The frozen air revealed my every breath, producing an artificial fog that clouded my immediate range of vision.

"We still have a little bit of a hike ahead of us." Edward had materialized at my side.

His superhuman speed and my inhibited vision rendered me more disoriented than usual. To make matters worse, I was not the outdoorsy type. Images flashed through my head: me tripping and breaking something; me sweating, my sweat freezing to my body, me dying of hypothermia; me passing out from exhaustion and never waking up.

Edward must have noticed my hesitation, "Bella, are you alright?" He frowned slightly, "If you do not want to go—we can go back."

The idea of losing my quality time with Edward seemed worse than any of the scenarios I had conjured up in my mind, "No, I'm fine. Let's go!" I walked ahead but stopped and turned to face him, smiling sheepishly, "Maybe you should lead since I don't know where we're going."

He chuckled and came to my side, "We don't have much time, remember? We will have to travel at _my_ speed." Edward turned his back to me and I knew the drill, hopping onto him like a little kid. I was a bit apprehensive, though; running down the straight, paved streets of Seattle at neck-breaking speed was somewhat different than on uneven, slick forest foliage.

"Do you ever trip?" A fair question, in my opinion.

His laughter reverberated off the trees, "No—that's a definitive human quality."

"Would that make me _super_ human?" I was joking, but seriously considered using the excuse next time I tripped in public.

"More like _queen_ of the super humans." He was smart enough to start running after that remark. _I_ was smart enough to close my eyes, fully aware that the bagel in my stomach had not quite settled.

Before I could remember how to form words and ask 'Are we there yet?' everything was still again. I opened my eyes, blinking furiously at the sudden brightness. We were still in the forest's cover, but ahead was a clearing—and I could only see the sky and sun.

"We are here; can you get down alright?" It was a rhetorical question, he was not going to let me scramble down unassisted. Edward grabbed my upper arm and gently pulled me forward, immediately supporting my lower back with his free hand.

When my feet hit the ground, the bagel stirred, "Just give me a second—I don't think you want to see what I had for breakfast."

He smiled down at me, "Alright." Death by smile—another scenario I added to my list of potential threats to my life.

As I remained in his arms, each passing second caused my body temperature to rise by a degree. "I'm good now," I squeaked.

His eyes narrowed a bit, like he was disappointed, "Are you sure?"

I nodded.

He lifted me up, loosening his grip once I was upright, "Are you fine? I will let go now."

Edward set me free and took a step back, watching me teeter a bit; but, I remained standing. "See," I smiled feebly, "I'm fine." I turned back toward the brightness and walked out of the forest.

The view was breathtaking. I was standing at the edge of a cliff. In front of me was the open sky, below which stretched a vast expanse of evergreens, and beyond that was the Seattle skyline. "This is _absolutely_ _amazing_!" I exclaimed and turned to find Edward still standing in the shadows. "Why are you still over there?"

"You have yet to see me in the sunlight, Bella." His arms were folded in front of his chest and he was leaning on a tree trunk.

"I thought sunlight doesn't hurt you." I didn't want him to harm himself.

"You thought right, but it _does_ have a certain effect on me." He scoffed bitterly.

"What? Is it bad?" He was holding back details again.

Edward seemed to be battling some severe inner demons before finally stepping out of the shadows. My eyes widened as the sunlight hit him. Every part of his exposed skin shimmered like it was covered in millions of tiny diamonds, I gasped at the sheer beauty of it. The skyline behind me no longer seemed worth looking at.

He turned his eyes away from me, "Now you can see me for what I am, Bella—I can no longer hide my monstrosity."

"You're beautiful." I was angry and sad that he put himself down like that.

A smile flashed across his face for a brief second, but turned into a frown again, "Bella, everything about me draws you in—I am designed to kill you." The last part of that sentence made his smooth voice crack.

"Then I must be suicidal, because I won't—can't keep myself away from you." I looked him dead in his eyes, ignoring the agony it inflicted on my spasmodic heart.

"You have no notion of self-preservation, do you?" His mood seemed a little lighter.

"Nope!" I was actually happy with that quality of mine.

"Then," he stepped toward me until he was at my side, "I must take on that responsibility—because I don't know what I would do if you were no longer in this world." He lifted his hand to my cheek, but didn't touch me—his fingers trembled, eyes focused on mine.

The proximity of his touch was excruciating; I slowly placed my hand on the back of his trembling one. I kept my eyes locked on his, pushing his hand to my cheek. His caress was cool, wispy—I shivered and smiled.

Edward frowned slightly, jerking his hand away, "I am sorry."

His mood shifts were frustrating, "What are you sorry for?"

"For being amusing to you." He walked to the edge of the cliff.

I tried to make a connection between that comment and his reaction, sighing at the implication, "I can't smile when you touch me?" I stomped over to him.

He immediately pulled me back, "You should never stand near deathly drops—and no smiling."

I could not figure out whether he was being sarcastic or serious, "but I'm ticklish." I smiled again.

"Ticklish?" He scoffed, "Well, the only way to find out…" His hand motioned to my stomach.

I hugged myself tightly, "No! Don't come _any_ closer or I'll…"

Edward stepped up to me, his frame overshadowing my own. Ever so slowly he ran his hand from behind my ear, down to my neck, stopping where my scarf inhibited his path, "…or you'll _what_?" His taunting eyes matched his husky, velvet voice.

"…faint." My knees locked and he caught me before I fell, pulling me back up against him.

"You really are a handful, Bella." He held me close, the tip of his nose almost touching my own.

"Only around you." It was a totally cheesy thing to say, yet totally true.

"I want to try something," his cold breath hit me, engulfing me in its sweet aroma.

I could barely nod as he inched even closer to me. I closed my eyes. His soft, cold lips pressed against my own. I parted my lips, wanting to match a flavor to the sweet fragrance of his breath. The sudden surge of cold air where he had been assaulted me like a physical blow. I opened my eyes, spotting him twenty feet away from me—back in the forest.

"What's wrong?" I couldn't withhold the desperation and anger in my voice.

"I have more self-control than I thought." He was back at my side as instantaneously as he had vanished from it.

Shame painted my cheeks red, "Sorry that _I _have _no_ self-control."

He patted me on the head playfully, "not only do you have no concept of self-preservation, you have less self-control than a vampire—how have you survived until now?"

"Well, I have _you_ to thank for part of that." His hand stalled on my head and shot back to his side.

He walked back to the cliff's edge, but I didn't follow, heeding his earlier advice "I discovered this place a little bit after I saved you from the van. It became my sanctuary—a place where I could clear my head—my _desire_."

"Do you regret saving me?" His last comment had stung.

Edward turned to look at me, eyes ablaze, "_Never_—I have _not once_ regretted saving you." His expression became gentler, "I needed to clear my head because saving you made me realize that what I felt for you went above and beyond what I _should_ have felt."

"What _should _you have felt?" I was determined to know more about him; to know how his mind works.

Edward's eyes narrowed, "That you are my _duty_—nothing more."

"So, I'm a chore?" _Duty_—the word echoed in my head, stomping on my self-worth and tugging at my nerves. I knew even _less_ now.

"_No_. You are _everything_." His tone was agonized.

The cynic in me had reawakened, "How can _you_ think that of _me_? You are so _far_ from me, so _untouchable_ in every way."

He appeared in front of me, "I am right here—and I never want to be anywhere else."

"Why me?" I could not fathom why this beautiful, angelic being wanted to be with _me_.

"I have watched you for many years, Bella." His eyes were _still_ watching me, "In that time I have been a silent observer of your life—your accomplishments, your struggles, your pain. In many instances I wanted to interfere. I wanted to share in your happiest moments and I wanted to comfort you when you were sad, but I stayed away for your own good. I have only interfered to save your life, but there was _another_ time when I almost lost it..." He pressed his lips together, contemplating whether he should say any more.

"_When_?" I was so close to understanding him just a _little _better.

"When you were with _him_." He looked away from me.

My eyes widened as a long-lost wound in my heart re-opened, "Jacob."

"During that time, I ran here every day—to forget. It was the first time in my life that I felt jealous of a human. It was the first time I _wanted_ to be human—if I were, I would have done anything to take you away from him. However, what I _am_ prevented me from having what I want." He ran a hand through his hair, stopping at the nape of his neck, "So, I left you, fearing that my presence would put you and _him_ in greater danger than anything else. I had to protect you from _myself_."

"Jacob and I—we were not meant to be." I had told myself I would never speak his name, never think of him—but here I was doing so in front of Edward, the one I now loved.

Edward ran a hand through his hair again—a nervous gesture, I noted, "When I could no longer keep myself away and came back—he was no longer around." His hand landed at his side and he clenched it tightly, "I was elated—it was the greatest _joy_ I felt and it was at someone's expense. If it were not for your unbearable sadness, I would not have come back to the ground. Your smile had faded, Bella—because of _him_."

I was clenching my fist as well, "It's not _his_ fault!" I shot him an angry look.

"_You_ ended it. I found that much out from reading the minds around you, but none of them knew _why_." He was hurt by my expression, but his gaze thirsted for knowledge.

"I loved him so much and _yet _I couldn't _love_ him. Part of me was always restless. I was with him until that restlessness got worse and worse, until it was no longer fair to either of us. I didn't want to hurt him, to string him along when my heart wasn't at ease. He deserved so much better than that—so I broke it off. He smiled when he said goodbye. I haven't heard from him since. He even changed his number and moved away. I lost my best friend because of my own selfishness." A tear rolled down my cheek and I brushed it off with my sleeve, knowing it would upset Edward to see me cry.

He was in front of me; his cold, marble finger tipping my chin up, "Not everything is _your _fault. You—_loved_—him and I _know_ he knew that. However, he wanted _more_—more than was fair. That is selfish. If he loved you as much as you loved him he would have recognized that and you would not suffer like this and blame yourself for things you are not responsible for."

My heart felt lighter, "Are you also a psychoanalyst?" I smiled, brushing another tear away.

"No, I am just really old and wise." A crooked smile adorned his lovely face.

"Now that you have me distracted—when you left, where did you go?" I was tired of thinking about my failures.

"Back home." It seemed so obvious to him.

I had never thought about the fact that Edward may have to do things outside of my little bubble, "Where's home?"

He smiled warmly, "Wherever my family happens to be."

"You have a family?" I felt an even dumber question coming on, "are they also vampires?"

"Yes, I have a family and _of course_ they are vampires. My _human _family died a very long time ago—I barely remember them." He walked over to a boulder by the cliff's edge and sat down, beckoning me to join him.

I stalked over, plopping down next to him, "So, you have parents?"

"Yes, my adoptive parents—Carlisle and Esme." His grin widened, eyes exuding love, "they are my biggest supporters—their faith in me is greater than my faith in myself."

His happiness made me smile too, "what about siblings?"

"Four—all _very_ different. Rosalie and Emmett are the first couple. He's a big, gruff bear and she's a dainty princess with an attitude to match—they were made for eachother. Alice and Jasper are somewhat different; Alice helps Jasper curb his random bloodlust. She and I get along the best—I can read minds and she can see the future, we understand eachother." He looked at me, grinning again.

Something was odd, "You said they're couples?"

"They are not my real brothers and sisters; we live as adoptive siblings to ward off suspicions from humans."

"Clever." I said and smiled back, feeling a little sad for the first time.

"What's wrong?" He was becoming more perceptive of my moods.

"Nothing, I just wish I had a big family too—it's kind of just me now." I thought of my late father and estranged mother for the first time in a while.

"Bella," his voice was low and soothing, "you are not alone." His arm stretched over my shoulder.

I sniffled, "I know—it's just so hard sometimes." I felt a lump in my throat but refused to let it get to me.

Edward suddenly stood up, "I think we better go, unless you would like to be late to class."

I shot up, "Crap, you're right—I lost track of time! If I'm late, you're explaining it to my professor."

He pretended to shake someone's hand, "Hello, sir, I am a mind-reading vampire and if Bella's grade suffers because she is tardy today—I will make sure to tell your wife what you _really_ do on those fishing trips."

"Haha...funny..." He swooped me up and we dashed down the forested mountainside at tremendous speed while I clutched to his jacket for dear life. In what seemed like just a few minutes later, he placed me back down in front of the silver Volvo. I leaned against the door, "I would appreciate a warning when you decide to do that."

"Sorry, but that would just give you time to contemplate and eventually bail out on." He had a point.

"Okay, let's go!" I proclaimed. He opened the door for me, bowing playfully.

"Thank you good sir." I curtseyed and hopped in the passenger seat.

He ran to the other side so quickly I could not follow him until he was seated next to me, "Seatbelt."

I groaned as I strapped the belt around me, "Yes, _officer_."

"Just keeping you safe." He smiled and backed out of the forest cover in a matter of seconds.

I intertwined my fingers nervously, "When do I get to see you again?"

"You have really become quite shameless with the visitation requests." He grinned, pleased with himself.

"There is no shame in love." I waited for his reaction.

It was quick and simple, "I love you too."

A weight was lifted off my shoulders, but I dropped back to reality, "I have exams soon—so, I have a lot of studying to do..."

"I understand." He seemed fine with it.

"You can watch me study." I said only half-joking.

"Okay." He kept his eyes on the road, "As long as I get to be with you."

"Then, I'll see after class?" I was definitely pushing my demand of his time, but I wanted to be _near _him.

"I will be waiting." His eyes were still on the road but a small smile crept up his face.

"Not in public! With the way you look—you'd cause a stir." I imagined myself in a cat fight over Edward—_I_ would lose the fight and _he'd_ lose all respect for me.

Edward smiled more broadly, "I will lurk in the shadows for you."

"I never thought I would like to hear that." I looked at his smiling face, realizing I felt happy for the first time in years.


	8. Chapter 8

_Hello—I know you haven't heard from me in a while, but I finally managed to finish this next chapter. It puts a close on a major story arc that I needed to finish so I could get to the good stuff. I'm sorry I have to end it in a cliff hanger for now—or maybe I'm just evil. _

_I also want to thank those of you who reviewed my story—your kind words really keep me keep writing. Knowing there's people who care about the twisted workings of my mind and where it will take Edward and Bella is really encouraging! _

_~*~*~*~ _

I cursed exams for taking my precious Edward time, but I still had to think about my life—my _real _life. The life that didn't include a dreamy, dazzling, gorgeous vampire who just happened to be in love with _me. _

He had been very understanding about my time commitments. Although we were constantly with each other in the past few weeks, whenever I told him that I had to study, even if I didn't want to, he had obliged to stay out of my way. Why couldn't he be the nagging, possessive kind? I loved and hated his maturity at the same time.

Nevertheless, exams passed and I was free at last—winter break had arrived and all my roommates were going home for the holidays. I was too—or so they believed. In truth, my mind was racing through all the cliché holiday activities I could force Edward into. But eventually they all fell through. I don't think he would enjoy eating or baking cookies. There was no way I could survive ice skating without breaking some part of my body. He also didn't seem like the holiday movie type. I sighed when I heard a knock on the door.

I scrambled out of the chair, almost slipped and fell on the linoleum, and when I actually reached the door—I hit my nose against it while looking through the peephole. Edward was standing on the other side, looking right at me. I tried to calm myself down, taking a few deep breaths—but to no avail, my heart was racing like I had just completed a triathlon.

"Hey!" He exclaimed, his hands shaking at his sides.

He must be nervous about approaching me—still, after all the time we've spent together. I moved in, slowly wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head on his chest, "You are allowed to hug me, Edward—there's nothing scary about a hug."

He sighed, "I guess not," his arms encircled me, pulling me closer, "I'm just afraid that I won't be able to let go of you. Imagine being attached to me forever." His tone was amused, but there was raw emotion in it.

I looked up at him and smiled, "I wouldn't mind."

Edward loosened his grip, placing his hands on my shoulders and putting distance between us, "You're hopeless." A trademark crooked grin grazed his god-like features.

"I've been called worse." I grabbed his hand, leading him into the living room, "this is my apartment—in daytime. Much less creepy, I know." He let go of my hand and slumped down in one of the high chairs. I crossed my arms and jutted my lower lip out like a six-year-old, "You don't expect me to let you sit there the whole time, do you?"

He scratched his head and smiled, "Why wouldn't I sit here? You don't have something _planned_ do you?"

I approached him, placing my hands on his knees and leaned in, "I actually do have _plans _for us. _We_ are going to get into the holiday spirit."

He raised his eyebrow, "and _how_ are we going to do that?"

I grinned, "I'm so glad you asked." I propelled myself off of him and grabbed a decorative box that was sitting on the other edge of the kitchen counter. I plopped it in front of him, "open it."

He gave me a suspicious look and slowly removed the lid; he glanced at the contents and looked up at me, confused, "Christmas cards?"

"Yep," I grabbed a handful of the cards, "but they're not just _any_ Christmas cards! These puppies are headed to the retirement center, the minute your beautiful script adorns them with warm Christmas wishes." I smiled—it was an _ingenious _idea, I have to admit.

Edward smirked, "Are _you_ going to write some?"

"I think my chicken scratch will make them resent the holidays." I smiled and jutted the cards I had grabbed into his hands.

"Let me get this straight, your idea of _us_ getting into the holiday spirit is for _me_ to write Christmas cards to old people?" His index finger was pointing between the two of us and finally landed on himself.

I nodded eagerly, "..._but_, _I_ will narrate."

He took a pen from the box and opened a card, "I await your masterful prose to flow from my quill, oh Shakespeare of Christmas wishes." He bowed to me.

I scoffed incredulously, "Don't patronize _me_, scribe!"

I laughed when Edward dropped the pen and pretended to bow to me, "I'm sorry, oh great highness of well-wishing."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, let's get to this. There's ten more boxes where that came from! Oh, and here's the list of names—make sure not to misspell anything!" I slid a stapled stack of nursery home resident names towards him.

"Just ten pages?" He smiled that heart-melting crooked way he always did.

I felt my ivory skin turn crimson, "Just listen and write, okay?"

He smirked again and looked down at the card, "Dear Alfred..."

***

We finished in an hour. Apparently, he did everything at ridiculous speeds. He even memorized the ten varieties of generic messages I could muster up—after that, I could no longer see his hand as it moved across the paper. Most of the time, he didn't even look down as he wrote—constantly stealing glances at me, making me blush. Although I loved looking at him, my fluctuating skin pigmentation forced me to make up a million excuses to get away from his fiery gaze—laundry, running a virus scan on my computer, taking various meats out of the freezer to thaw, checking on a pair of mittens I was trying to buy for Edward on ebay—and the list of lame excuses continues indefinitely.

None of it helped, I was always painfully aware of his presence. What would I do next? I had expected the cards to occupy us for quite some time; it was supposed to be a fantastic conversation starter (albeit, in the past hour I haven't been much of a talker). Now, I was in my empty apartment again with Edward—could anyone blame me for not being able to take all that gloriousness in a confined space for a prolonged period of time? I breathed in and out.

I was writing a shopping list on our bulletin board in the kitchen, another lame excuse, when Edward snuck up behind me, his deep, velvet voice in my ear, "What are you doing?"

I spun around, realizing our bodies were less than an inch apart. He moved in, pinning both hands on either side of me, leaning in to whisper in my ear, "Bella, I feel you've been avoiding me." He was so close, his raspy breath hit my skin, causing the hairs on my neck to stand up.

I barely managed to speak a cohesive sentence, "No...I haven't."

He moved back to look at me, but his hands remained pinned to the wall, "Then why have you done _anything_ but talk to me in the past hour? Did I do something to upset you?"

"NO!" I practically screamed and watched him wince.

"Ow," He pointed at his ears and chuckled, "Vampire ears are somewhat sensitive."

"Sorry." I bit my bottom lip as his hand returned to its original spot on the wall, "It's just that you're doing everything so..._right_, I can't even _look _at you."

His brows scrunched up in confusion, "I am doing everything right, yet you cannot look at me?" Edward shoved himself off of the wall and ran both hands through his hair out of frustration.

"Don't get mad—I meant that in a _good _way!" I clutched on to his forearm, but he didn't look at me, "Edward, I'm sorry. I'm not too good at expressing my emotions, this is all so new to me."

His eyes narrowed into little slits but he never looked at me, "You were never like this with _him_."

I immediately let go of him, "You're _mad _about Jake?" I couldn't believe he was bringing this up—was it even possible that he was _jealous_ about a relationship that ended two years ago? A relationship that ended so _poorly_? A relationship that he _comforted_ me about?

Edward disappeared and reappeared in front of the living room window within in a matter of seconds, "I am not _mad_, just _irritated_."

I walked over to him, standing at his side, "You _know_ I never loved Jake like that—I've told you before. Why are you bringing this up?"

He sighed and looked at me, "You had always been so carefree around him—so _happy_. I can still remember your smiling face whenever the two of you were together—I have yet to see you like that around me. It makes me so frustrated I can't even describe it..."

I shouldn't have said what I said next, "You sound like you're jealous of Jake."

His eyes turned dark, "Jealous? You think I'm _jealous_...Bella, can't you see that _I_..._just_..." The pain in his topaz eyes pierced through my heart, shattering it into a million pieces.

Edward was now at a loss for words, slumped down in the chair next to the big window, cradling his head in his hands, "Edward...that's not what I meant to say." I reached out to touch him, but he held his hand up to stop me, "Edward...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being so stubborn and for not making you realize that I love _you_ more than I've ever loved _anyone_..." I knelt down in front of him, "Edward...look at me." He slowly lifted his head and met my eyes, "I'm _really _sorry—_you're_ the only person I've ever loved like this—Jak..._he_ could never make me as happy as I am now—with _you_."

Edward placed both hands on my cheeks and rested his forehead on mine, "Maybe, I was a _little _jealous." He looked at me from under his lashes. I died, or was pretty close to it. He smiled and tilted my face down, pressing his lips against my forehead, "I have wanted to hold you for so long, Bella. It just hurts when you distance yourself from me—when you don't look at me and avoid me."

I felt my cheeks burning up, "I don't mean to hurt you—it's just that I'm still not used to the way you—look at me."

He pulled back—a cocked grin throwing off the perfect symmetry of his face, "How do I _look_ at you, Bella?"

I was feeling faint, "Like you want me to have a heart attack."

He frowned, "I would _never_..."

I lifted my index finger to his lips, "Edward, you're being very dense right now."

Before he frowned again I planted a soft kiss on his lips, "how about I stop avoiding you and you stop pouting."

Edward grinned evilly as he scooped me up off of the floor and onto his lap, "those are our favorite activities—what _are_ we to do now?"

I placed my hands around his neck, "we've already had _my_ idea of a fun time." I stole a glance at the stack of completed Christmas cards on the kitchen counter, "_your_ turn."

He smirked, "you shouldn't have said that."

***

My chin rested on the coffee table as I looked at the looming chess pieces in front of me and then at Edward who was rubbing his chin in concentration, "You know, I've always wondered what it was like to play chess with a person whose mind I could not read." He picked up a piece whose name I had forgotten again, "Check. Unfortunately, I don't need to read _your_ mind to annihilate you at this game."

I lifted my chin off the table and shot him an evil look, "You were right."

He just smiled at my attempt to look angry, "about what?"

"That I wouldn't like your idea of fun!" I looked at the antique chess board again, "Is this embarrassing blow to my ego over with?"

Edward chuckled, "Not quite, but if you want it to be..."

I nodded my head furiously, "Oh yes, I have never wanted anything more in my life."

"Ouch." Edward put on a sad face.

I smiled and got up to sit by his side on the couch, placing my arm around his shoulder, "I guess I deserved it—making you write all those cards probably wasn't a riot either."

He took my free hand into his and leaned in to kiss the top of my head, "I'm just happy to be here next to you. Having to watch you from a distance doesn't have the same punch it used to."

I looked up at him, careful not to hit my head against his nose, "You've been watching me?!"

He raised his eyebrows, like I had asked the strangest question, "Of course."

"The whole exam week? I thought we were finished with the whole lurking in the darkness, overprotective vampire thing." I turned away from him on the sofa, crossing my arms in front of me.

"Bella, I have to _protect_ you—I can't stop watching you. Even if I could somehow drag myself away from you, that's not _my_ choice to make. Haven't we been over this already?" He put his hand on my shoulder, tugging it so I would look at him.

I slapped his hand off and stalked over to the kitchen counter, bracing myself against it with both hands. My mind was racing frantically—he was being cryptic again. At this point, I was beginning to resent it so much that my heart ached; I swung around to face him. He was right behind me but his hands remained at his sides. "Edward—I just don't get it! _Why_ do there have to be secrets between us? _Why_ can't you tell me why you _have _to protect me?" My eyes were brimming with tears at this point and I was trying my hardest not to let them overflow.

"Bella, don't cry—you don't know how much it hurts me to see you cry." He took my face into his large, cool hands, wiping the now overflowing tears away with his thumbs.

His gentleness made me angrier—I resented how he calmed me when all I wanted to do was lash out at him for keeping me in the dark. What other secrets did he have? I already knew he was a vampire—was there anything more outrageous than a living myth? As much as I tried to understand his love for me—I couldn't. I hated myself for it, for not having faith in him, for feeling like I couldn't be loved by someone as wonderful as Edward. I didn't want to be such a cynic, but I had learned too early in life that sometimes love was not enough.

"Edward—please just don't." I took his hands off my cheeks and looked up at his agonized expression, his chest was heaving like that first night in my apartment, "Edward, I _love_ you. It's the most irrational, happy feeling I have ever experienced—but, I don't know _why_ and that...the fact that I _care_ so _much_ about that doesn't make me worth your love."

His lower lip was quivering, his breathing spasmodic—if vampires could shed tears, I think he would have—"Bella..." Edward's hand was shaking, hovering next to my cheek but he balled it up into a fist instead and withdrew it back to his side, "I'd better go."

My cheeks were soaked in tears and I was stammering, "I...thi...nk that's bbb...est."

There was a draft as the door to my apartment slammed and I crumpled to the floor, unable to breathe—he was really gone.

***

I laid in my bed just like after the first night Edward had been in my apartment, but I was still crying. Six hours had passed since he had left, but I couldn't control my tears and the unbelievable sadness and sense of loss that produced them. I don't know when or how it happened but the environment around me changed.

It was the green and misty forest I had seen so many times in my dreams. I was still dressed in my pajamas and barefoot. There was a slight breeze that rustled the evergreens above me. I shivered from the sudden cold.

"Bella." I heard a smooth, velvet voice calling from behind me but there was no one there when I turned.

"Edward! Edward!" I started screaming at the top of my lungs but after a few times I couldn't hear myself. I opened my mouth over and over again but no sound came out.

"Bella." His voice was just an echo now—far ahead of me. I could see him, he was blurry but I knew it was him. I started running, but no matter how hard I ran, I couldn't catch up to him. It was like I was running on a tread mill, stuck in one place while he kept disappearing further and further into the distance.

"Edward!" I attempted to scream again, "Edward!" He never looked back and finally disappeared.

A shrill sound awakened me. I threw the covers off—my hair was damp, my body covered in sweat. The shrill noise brought me back to reality—it was my ringtone. I grabbed my cell phone off of the side table, "Hello."

"Bella?" I couldn't believe my ears. I recognized the voice, but I hadn't heard it in so many years that it seemed surreal.

"Phil?"


	9. Chapter 9: Regrets

_Here's the next chapter, sorry for the long wait. I was one of those crazy people who went to New York City for New Year's and froze their butt off! That was cold; I don't recommend it to anyone unless the temperature's above forty degrees. But, at least I have a "braving the elements" story to tell now. Also, I want to thank those of you who reviewed. Loveisms, thank you for your kind words; I did try to follow the link you gave me, but it did not exist. :( Maybe, I'll just look it up on my own after I stop being a lazy bum.  
_

_For now, this story is still continuing right here and this chapter is all about Bella as she begins to discover things about her family._

***

I hadn't flown anywhere since I left for college five years ago; if it weren't for the circumstances that had forced me to fly again, I would have enjoyed it. I was awake throughout the whole three hour flight from Seattle to Minneapolis, watching the shining white cloud cover rolling beneath the plane. It was a welcome respite from the emotional, illogical wreck my mind had become since Phil had called.

***

"Phil?"

"Glad you still remember me, Bella." He sounded slightly bitter, but the undertone was overwhelmed by an emotion that didn't quite suit the happy-go-lucky guy I remembered him as.

I felt it was inappropriate to be cynical, "Of course I do, Phil...Is something the matter?"

Phil sighed on the other end, "Bella, I hate to be the one to tell you this—I've told her many times she should've told you herself, but now she can't even..." He broke off and I could've sworn I heard him sob, but the noise was muffled as if he had placed a hand over the speaker.

"Phil, did something happen to—mom?" _Mom_—it had become a word I would toss around without any particular meaning because when I did attach it to a certain person it only caused me pain.

I heard him move his hand away, "She's not doing well Bella; she hasn't been well for a while. You know, she was so stubborn—refused to call you or even let me call you. She wanted you to be happy, didn't want you involved with _her_ problems—said it was selfish. But you're her daughter, Bella—her blood, I couldn't _not_ tell you."

"Phil, _what's _wrong with mom?" My voice was shaking like the rest of my body.

"Cancer, Bella. It's come back again—spread to her liver. Doctors say to be ready to say goodbye any day now." Phil's voice also shook.

I dropped the phone to the floor as my body went numb and my head slammed into the pillow beneath me. This _couldn't _be happening. It was simply too much for me to take. I covered my face with both hands, feeling the tears flow beneath my fingertips. My mouth opened against my hands and I began to wail without stopping to breathe. I didn't want to breathe. I didn't want oxygen to keep me alive. I just wanted to die. If I lived, I would live to regret everything I had ever done wrong in my life. And I suddenly felt like a person with a lot of regrets—unforgivable, terrible regrets.

***

I read a mindless gossip magazine while waiting for my connecting flight to Cleveland. In an hour and a half I discovered yet another reason why my mother was not the terrible person I had wanted her to be—I wasn't named after produce or a Disney character. I stopped the train of thought before another wave of sadness could take over me.

***

After I had dropped the phone, Phil had called relentlessly until the noise registered in my mind. He said I wasn't picking up for almost an hour—he sounded panicked, but relieved to hear me on the other end again.

"Bella, please don't scare me like that!" He was yelling—I had never heard Phil yell.

"Sorry." I tried to remember how to talk; one hand still covered the other side of my face.

"I think you should see her before she passes." He sounded as if he had practiced the line many times—his voice only broke a little at the end.

"I think so too." I hadn't had time to practice; I started sobbing into the phone this time, "_Why? Why_, Phil? _Why _didn't she tell me?"

"Because she didn't want to hurt you, Bella. She didn't want you to have to deal with losing another parent—she wanted you to be happy." He was pleading now; asking for forgiveness on her behalf.

The intense pressure in my heart was creeping up to my throat, choking me, "Did she think I'm that _selfish_?" I _was_ that selfish. I had _hated_ her for the past five years. I had hated her as much as I hated myself right now.

"No. Never. She blamed herself for being a bad mother. She couldn't tell you she was sick; she made up her mind—the stubborn woman thought it was better for you to hate her than to stay by her side and watch her get sicker and sicker." Phil sounded as if it was a constant point of argument between the two, "I never agreed with her. A girl needs her mother. But she wouldn't let me tell you. Now she has no choice. If it were _my _mother I'd want to know. Bella, I'm sorry."

I wiped the tears away, "Don't be sorry Phil. Thank you. I'll book the next flight out. She's in Washington Hospital, right?"

"No—we've been up in Cleveland for some time now. She went through a series of radiology treatments at the Cleveland Clinic, but it hasn't helped. The doctors finally put her in hospice care last week." Phil sounded defeated.

"Cleveland? Phil, since when has mom had this?" I finally realized that the time line didn't make sense—she had started being cold towards me after dad died.

"She had been in remission from breast cancer for nine years. It came back four months ago, so I convinced her to go up to Cleveland—it's the closest of the top hospitals; I wanted what's best for her."

I let it all sink in. I was suddenly angry again. She had gotten sick even before dad died. She and dad had hidden this from me. "They both _lied_!" I didn't know why I was screaming at Phil. He was the only one that had had the decency to fill me in. The only one that believed I was adult enough to know the truth. He was the only one that had faith in me.

"Bella, they wanted what's best for you—they're your parents. They would never want to hurt you intentionally." Phil was pleading again.

"But, I _am _hurt. But, I know now is not the time. I'm going to go book my flight. I'll call you after, okay?" I had made a one-eighty degree transition in less than a few seconds. I knew it wasn't the time to be angry. I had to compose myself long enough to book the flight and I could have all day tomorrow to seethe in my anger and try to make everything make sense.

"Okay, Bella. You call me right after you make that reservation, alright?" Phil sounded hesitant to let me go.

"I will, Phil. Don't worry, I'm fine. Bye." I hung up before he could try to say something calming again. I didn't really want to calm down. I just wanted to focus on one task and be pissed off. I just wanted to die—and the only person that would care if I did was gone now. And I didn't know where he was or if I'd ever see him again.

***

Phil had hugged me when he spotted me in the airport. I had always known he was a warm person, but I had never wanted to hug him in the past. He was on the same level with my mom. I had hated him, but now he was the closest thing to family I had.

"Bella, I'm glad you came." Phil made it sound like he was surprised I was _actually _there.

"Did you ever have any doubts that I would?" I didn't appreciate everyone's quick judgments about my character. Did I really seem like such a selfish person to them?

"No. Actually, I always knew you'd come. You love your mother." He smiled.

He sounded so sure and reassuring that it made me want to cry. I did. I started sobbing right then and there. Like a little baby I cried into Phil's shoulder while everyone in the baggage claim watched, "It's okay, Bella. You're allowed to cry. Come, I'll lead you to the car."

We walked and I cried. Phil pulled my small suitcase while supporting me with his other arm, "Your mom's in the hospice center a little way out of town—family's open to visit at any time. Would you like to go now or do you want to rest first?"

"Now." I didn't even think twice about it.

"Okay."

***

An effort had been made to make the small dimly-lit room seem homey. There was even a small rug on the floor and little houseplants were placed on the windowsill, "They let me bring anything I want to warm the place up. The staff here really tries their best to make it seem like home." Phil was looking around the room, trying to make small talk.

But my eyes remained focused on the unrecognizable shadow lying on the bed in front of me. This person looked nothing like the young, head-strong woman I remembered as my mother. This person was like a skeleton. Her cheekbones protruded, threatening to burst through the pale film of skin. Her eyes were dark, circular folds, caving into a hollowed space. Her lips were a thin, blue line. Her whole body was covered by a white blanket which only made her look closer to death—it was like her funeral shroud.

I kept my eyes locked on her chest. It was the only sign of life I could cling on to. Her chest would lift the funeral shroud with her—ever so slightly, ever so infrequently it would raise and collapse onto itself again. I watched and I watched until my eyes were heavy, but I didn't cry. If I cried it would disrupt everything. I would have to take my eyes away from her. I would have to preoccupy myself with calming down and I wouldn't be able to watch over her. I couldn't take that risk. I couldn't lose any more time. I had lost five years already—I had to cherish what remaining time I had with my mother. Whether she actually knew I was there or not, I couldn't tell. But, I could at least convince myself that she did.

"Bella, we should go—you've sat there for six hours straight. You should at least eat something." Phil's voice came from behind me.

"I'm not hungry. I want to stay here, you can go if you want to. I don't mind." I kept my eyes on her chest.

"Bella, it's not just me that's worried. You're worrying the staff." He was pleading with me.

"Sorry to worry you, but I'm fine. I swear. Tell them not to worry. I'll get something to eat when I'm hungry." The funeral shroud fell again.

"Bella...fine. Just tell the nurses when you get hungry. They can bring you something, okay?" He was already at the doorway.

"Yeah, thanks." It rose again.

"I'll be back early tomorrow morning." I heard his footsteps disappear down the hall.

***

"Bella! The nurses say you didn't eat all night!" Phil was at my side now. "Can you hear me, Bella?!"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm a law student—we don't eat or sleep, I'm used to it." My eyes were past exhaustion. Even if I wanted to, I don't think I could've closed them.

"I'll get you some food right now!" He went off into the hallway.

I had stayed awake all night, hoping for a change. I had watched the shroud move, but it was all the same. Up and down. Steadily, but surely it went up and down. She didn't turn, she didn't move her limbs. If it weren't for my fixation on her breathing I would've thought she was dead already. I was still coming to terms with the fact that this was my mother, but I had spent all night watching her. I had even discerned some resemblances to the mom I used to know. Her cheekbones were still high, her hair was dark and wavy, her fingers were long and elegant—she looked like a shriveled, ninety-year-old version of herself.

As I counted the resemblances in my head I felt tears escape my eyes. I couldn't see the shroud anymore. I wiped my eyes vigorously, but it was like a never-ending flow. I couldn't see her! I couldn't see her anymore. I began to cry out loud. I heard other voices gather around me; strange hands were touching my shoulders until everything went dark.

***

My head was throbbing as I opened my heavy lids to be greeted by Phil's anxious face hovering at my side, "Bella! How're you feeling? You passed out, but the doctors just said you were sleeping."

I licked my cracked, dry lips and looked around. I was in another room, similar to the one mom was staying in. It appeared that they had placed me in a bed, "Ow!" There was a sharp pain as I tugged my left hand to scratch my head. I looked again and saw the cause of the discomfort—they had hooked me up to an IV. I saw the little bit of blood at the base of the needle where they had pricked me and immediately felt faint, "Tell them to take it out." I could barely speak from the anxiety I felt, knowing there was a needle in my body.

"I'm sorry Bella, but they had to do it—you were extremely malnourished. It was part of the reason why you fainted. You still have another bag to go." Phil was attempting to use his soothing voice, but all I could think about was that there was a sharp, metal object stuck in my vein.

"I'm fine, Phil. Just tell them to take it out—I'll eat something instead. Really, I'm fine. Where's the doctor? Nurse? Whoever put this thing in!" I sounded like a whiny brat.

Phil sighed, "Fine. I'll call the nurse."

The nurse, who looked an awful lot like Jessica, with her blond hair and fake, relaxing grin, liked to fib just as much as my roommate. "This'll pinch just a little," were the famous last words I heard before she yanked the needle from my hand, replacing a cotton swab on top of the wounded area.

I screamed, "OW!!! PINCH?!?! STAB—It's STABBING ME—the PAIN!"

The nurse just smiled sweetly as if she enjoyed watching me suffer, "Now, now, it wasn't that bad. You'll be fine, Ms. Swan."

"No I won't!" I really _did_ sound like a young brat.

I held the cotton to my throbbing hand, convinced blood was oozing form my body at an alarming rate. Those concerns were quickly pushed aside when I realized the time. I had slept for five hours after fainting. It was almost afternoon by now. I stumbled out of bed, still holding the swab to my other hand. Of course, I lost my balance because I didn't use my arms and fell off the bed. Luckily Phil had just walked through the door with my lunch, catching me just before my knees collided with the floor.

"Mom, I need to get to mom." I scrambled back up on my feet, but Phil put his arm up in front of me.

"Nothing's changed with Renee, but _you_ need to sit down and eat." He was glaring at me; I knew it was serious when Phil glared.

"Can't I eat it in mom's room?" I tried my puppy-eyed look. These were dire circumstances.

He put his arm down and picked the tray of hospital food off the nightstand, "fine, follow me."

I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I started eating—even the fake mashed potatoes and ancient over-processed chicken were delicious to my growling stomach. I ate with my eyes fixed on mom. She was still _alive_ for lack of a better word, but I could swear her breaths were farther apart.

"Phil, I think she's breathing less since yesterday." I was trying to talk between gulps of apple juice.

"I wouldn't be surprised. I've been watching her since she got like this—it's been like that every day. A little less air every day..." He choked on a sob, "Sorry, Bella—I know this doesn't make you feel any better. I wish I would've protested more when she was still able to talk. At least then you could've had a conversation with her, but now..."

I turned to face him, fighting my own tears, "Phil, it's okay—it's not your fault. She's like me. We didn't talk to each-other for five years because of our stupid, thick heads. We always think we know what's best for everyone else—" A single drop trickled down my cheek, "but we were wrong. How could she think I didn't want to know? How could both my parents think I didn't deserve to know?"

"Bella, when your mom could still talk, she felt terribly guilty because she refused to get the surgery when she had cancer the first time. At that time, ten years ago, she wanted to lead a normal life. She argued that God had given her one body and she would keep it like it was intended to stay. She only wanted the chemo and radiation treatment—and it worked, the first time." He sighed, "but she told me your dad got real angry with her. He kept trying to tell her to have the surgery—that it was the only way to remove the cancer for sure. But she refused; she didn't want her baby to have a deformed mother. Your dad didn't want his baby to lose her mother. In the end it caused such a huge rift in their relationship..."

My eyes had betrayed me again, I was crying and the pain in my heart grew stronger. I had known my parents' relationship had become hostile around that time, but I had never known why. They had barely talked to each other the few years before my father's death—had he not died they probably would've divorced. I had assumed mom had met Phil too soon after dad died, but now everything was coming together, "Were you two together before my dad died?"

Phil looked down at his feet, "Your parents were legally separated two years before your dad's death—the divorce would've been finalized a month after he died. They chose to live together for your sake, Bella. They both wanted what's best for you."

"You know, I'm not mad about that. Don't feel bad, Phil. _But_, what I _am_ mad about is these secrets that were kept from me. Secrets for _my_ sake. That _really_ pisses me off!" I clenched both my fists tightly, feeling a sharp pain in my injured hand. I really _hated_ secrets and dishonesty. My mind traveled back to my apartment and the last time I saw Edward. He, too, was trying to protect me from threats I couldn't know about. _Why_? _Why_ was everyone always trying to _protect_ me? I didn't want their protection. I just wanted the truth!

I opened my eyes again and looked at Phil with the calmest expression I could muster, "Phil, I'm going to step out for some air for a little bit. I just need some time to think—alone."

Phil looked surprised at my sudden change in attitude, "Alright, you can just take the elevator to the lobby. Do you know where it is?"

"I'll be fine—I'm actually an adult and can take care of myself, believe it or not." The last thing I wanted was to be mean to Phil, he was the only one that had been honest with me. But I couldn't have him follow me.

"Okay, Bella. Don't stay out too long. It's cold out there." He gave me a weak smile.

"I'll grab my coat." I smiled as I grabbed my jacket off the chair and threw it on, hoping it would reassure Phil that I was feeling well enough to think about keeping myself warm, "I'll be back soon."

"Okey Dokey." Those silly expressions Phil made and his easy-going manner almost made me feel guilty for not giving him a chance to be my dad. But, I was finally learning how to live with regrets now.


End file.
